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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27713438">Dinner Time</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/aba_daba_do/pseuds/aba_daba_do'>aba_daba_do</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Mandalorian (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Father-Son Relationship, Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:35:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,036</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27713438</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/aba_daba_do/pseuds/aba_daba_do</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the Mandalorian has to feed a hungry child. </p><p>I forgot that I wrote this for my fanfiction students to read when we did our Mandalorian unit. It was mostly just to help them get a sense of what they would be graded on and what things from the bigger Star Wars universe they could use. And now I guess I'm crossposting it from Wattpad.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Dinner Time</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Hey! Get that out of your mouth." With his thumb and index finger, he pinched the back of the child's clothing and lifted him into the air. "That is not food!" With his other hand, he plucked a duraplast wrench from the child's mouth, pulling away strings of slobbery, wet drool. He set down the wrench on the nearby table. It was a wonder how this child could find anything with the sole purpose of sticking it into his tiny, gummy mouth. He didn't think such a small thing would be so... annoying.</p><p>The child whimpered in protest, reaching out with two chubby green hands for the wrench. His stomach gave a tiny, gurgling growl.</p><p>The Mandalorian grunted, his voice crinkling through the static of his helmet's microphone. "I suppose you're hungry."</p><p>The child babbled again, trying to reach again for the wrench on the table.</p><p>The Mandalorian sighed, plunking the child down into the seat beside him. He hadn't considered what he would feed the child, it seemed self-sufficient enough to eat whatever it found– like sandfrogs or various native fruits and berries. But in the vast inky black of space, he would have to find food for the child himself.</p><p>"Alright," he groaned. "I should have some foodstuff rations–hey! No!" The child gnawed and sucked on a loose durasteel rod, his soft gums oozing sticky drool. The Mandalorian pried the rod of the child's mouth, his disgusted grimace hidden behind the shadowed exterior of his helmet. The drool stuck to his gloves. "Don't put things in your mouth." He let the rod clatter against the dashboard, dinging against various leavers and screens. Then he reached out and grabbed the child, holding him in the crook of his arm. "Come on."</p><p>Making his way down the ladder of the ship, the Mandalorian's footsteps echoed against each rung. He kept usually some spare rations tucked away in the corner of a cabinet. Nothing special, just some portion bread and whatever non-perishable food he could pick up.</p><p>He hadn't ever considered he would be feeding someone else. He always ate alone in the hull of his ship, forehead slick with sweat and his helmet rested beside him. Sometimes it was nice to pretend that helmet was another person; that for the first time since he was a child another living being could see his face and enjoy a meal with him, chattering back and forth. The Mandalorian wasn't sure what he would talk about. Bounty hunting did not seem to be appropriate conversation for meal time.</p><p>Not that it would matter. The child didn't seem like good company anyway.</p><p>He opened up the crate he kept below an arsenal of blasters and vibroblades, only to find his store of food raided save for the leftover duraplast wrappings. "Jawas," he grumbled to himself. Chattering menaces couldn't even leave him a single veg-meat ration. He closed the crate and marched back over to the ladder. "You'll just have to wait until we reach Sorgan."</p><p>The child's stomach rumbled again, like the rattle of a droid against rough terrain. Cooing, the child tried to reach with one hand for his helmet.</p><p>"Fine," replied the Mandalorian. He set the child down in a passenger seat. He then sat down himself in the pilot's chair, positioning his hands at the steering gears. Checking the holoprojector map at his side. "There's a planet not far from here. We should be able to find a cantina. But after that, no more stopping until Sorgan." Seeming to understand this, the child's ears drew back and he smiled.</p><p>Adjusting the speed and gears of the Razor Crest, The Mandalorian landed the ship not far from a nearby cantina frequented by galactic travelers. It was a dry desert planet, the rifts of wind blown sand bashing up against his helmet as he disembarked with the child. The cantina was encapsulated by other ships as the sun set over the beige exterior.</p><p>The two entered into the cantina bright music causing some of the cups and dishes on the tables to clatter with the rhythm. The Mandalorian took a seat, dropping the child into the chair across from him. It smelled like overcooked tip yip and fuel. Red desert light streamed in through the windows.</p><p>A waitress came by a smile practically wrapped around her face. "Hello there!" she said to the child, reaching out with one hand to touch his cheek. "You're just the cutest thing in the galaxy!" The Mandalorian rolled his eyes, obscured by the helmet. The waitress turned, "Your boy is very sweet."</p><p>"He's," the Mandolrian cleared his throat. "He's not my boy," he said, a bit too forcefully.</p><p>"Oh." The waitress flushed a deep red. "Well, is there anything I can get for you."</p><p>"Thala-siren milk for the boy," he replied. "And if you have any frogs he'll eat that too."</p><p>"I'll have to check on those frogs but I can get the milk. Anything for you?"</p><p>The Mandalorian shook his head. "No."</p><p>"Alright then, I'll be right back." The waitress disappeared into a thick cloud of patrons.</p><p>The child occupied himself by sucking on a spoon as the Mandalorian drummed his fingers on the table. The only reason he stopped at cantinas was to either receive his next bounty assignment or capture it. Even though he couldn't eat in public, he couldn't remember the last time he sat down to have a meal with another person. He wouldn't admit to it, but it was nice. The child could not talk, but company was something the Mandalorian often found himself short of. Watching the child drink from a cup that was obviously too big, thick and rich green milk pouring down his cheeks caused the Mandalorian to crack a small smile.</p><p>The waitress came back and set down the milk in front of the child. "I'll be back with some sandfrogs soon. Are you sure there isn't anything else I can get for you?"</p><p>Reaching out with one finger, the Mandalorian tilted the cup back a little so the milk would not spill down the child's face. The half-tug of a smile was hidden beneath his helmet. "No. We're doing just fine." </p>
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